


Three Quarters Curiosity

by Elsinore_and_Inverness



Category: Casanova (UK), Doctor Who
Genre: Bisexual Characters, Card games and chicken, Episode: s02e04 The Girl in the Fireplace, F/F, F/M, General high spirited randomness, M/M, Pre-Revolutionary France on a Spaceship, Stolen ballgowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsinore_and_Inverness/pseuds/Elsinore_and_Inverness
Summary: My version of The Girl In The Fireplace. In which Rose is the one interested in someone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just for my own entertainment, really

51st century spaceship. That wasn’t a first. 51st century spaceship with a horse, on the other hand…   
Clara turned a corner. A young man and woman were arguing near a fireplace. A fireplace on a spaceship?   
They were in their early twenties, and the young woman seemed very upset. 

‘If that’s what you think, why don’t you go through the magic door thing yourself?’ the man wondered. I seemed a fair question.

‘It’s unstable. You can’t tell what point in the time line you’ll end up in. I might show up decades before he’s even arrived.’ So she knew her way around. There was something arrestingly attractive about that.

'You sound just like him, you know that?’ the young man responded sulkily. 

The way he said the word 'him’ left little doubt as to who he was referring to.

'You could try hotwiring the hyperlink.’ Clara suggested. 

The young woman turned around, crimped blonde hair brushing the shoulders of her t-shirt. 'Who are you?’

'It would stabilize this end at least. Prevent it from collapsing for awhile. If I know the Doctor, he’s probably overestimated the-’

'How did you-’

Clara smiled, 'Just passing through. Helping out.’

'You know the Doctor?’

Clara was mostly staring at her now. She had the most magnificent brown eyes. 'The… Yes. In theory.’

'When?’ 

Clara gave the fireplace a cursory glance, fighting a bizarre impulse to lick the lintel. Where was that coming from? 'At a guess, mid-eighteenth century…’

'No, I know that. When did you know the Doctor?’

'Not really sure. It’s a bit hard to keep track. And he lies a lot.’

'No he doesn’t.’ 

The young man responded to this with a snort of disbelief.

'Anyhow- Uh… What’s your name?’

'Rose Tyler.’ 

Clara’s intake of breath was audible. 

'Why? What happens? What happens to me?’

'I’m not sure… You see, the thing is, I’m not really, well… It’s all a bit complicated.’

'Would it damage the timeline?’

Clara shrugged. 'Probably. But I really, genuinely don’t know. The only reason I know that-’ Clara frowned. 'Do you ever have something that you know happened, but you can’t remember it at all?’

'Yes.’

'Because something’s resonating and I don’t know what it is. I don’t think I should know who you are.’

'Like a guide. A pull in certain direction.’

'Exactly. Do you by any chance have a spanner?’

'What’s that going to do?’

'It’s-’ Clara ran her finger along where the fireplace met the metal of the ship, 'on some level it can be controlled manually- I mean macroscopically, I mean the quantum delineation is-’

'You’re gonna tweak the gears.’

'Yeah.’


	2. Chapter 2

Meanwhile, in autumn of 1748, a card game was under way.

'Casanova!’ Rienette called. The young man in question seemed rather oblivious. 'Giacomo… Giac, if you’re quite finished ogling the King of France, it’s your turn.’

'Huh?’ the blue eyed Venetian asked distractedly.

'He’s a bit dull, don’t you think?’ the Doctor asked, leaning his chair back on two legs.

’Mais non. Il est magnifique.’

'Unlike your French,’ the king’s mistress quipped in perfect Italian.

Giacomo smiled indulgently, laying a card down on the table.

'Are you betting anything?’ the Doctor asked.

'Uh…’ Casanova stared paintings on the ceiling, thinking about dinner. He was still a bit hungry, having a tendency to talk too much when he was supposed to be eating. 'How about a chicken.’ 

'Done.’

They played until the end of the round in concentrated silence until someone pulled open the drawing room door from the outside. A young woman in a dress the Doctor recognized. A dress he had acquired for Rose Tyler in Paris last Friday. Last Friday a decade and a half in the future. It didn’t fit this young woman, the hem trailed on the floor.

He stood up. A chill running through the room as the silence shifted from amiable contentment to trepidation. 'What happened to Rose.’

The young woman shrugged. 'You left her on a spaceship.’

The Doctor’s expression was unreadable. 'I need to go back.’

'Well, actually I’ve stabilized the hyperlink from the outside, so it doesn’t matter when you go back, it will only be a few minutes either way.’  
The Doctor felt as though a weight had been lifted from him. She was safe. Or as safe as she ever would be. 

He looked around and the table at the French king and queen, the brilliant Parisian and penniless Venetian, He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something in his nature akin to unrepentant hedonism. There was so much he wanted to let go of. 

He mostly wished Rose was there. She made him feel whole. 'I still think I should go back,’ he decided. 

Casanova looked back and forth between the small young woman and tall, strangely clad man. Two pairs of intense brown eyes seemed to be boring a hole in the air itself. He looked at the card table again and asked, rather plaintively, 'Could I have the chicken, then?’

Clara’s mind worked fast. She considered that as soon as she allowed the Doctor to go back to Rose they would fly away. Perhaps they would make an attempt to rescue Madame De Pompadour from whatever was causing the strangeness on the ship, but at any rate they would be gone. She would never have the chance to speak to Rose Tyler again or to figure out what was so special. What it was that connected her to the very nature of spacetime itself. Rose Tyler was incredibly important, for reasons far beyond the fact that she had attracted the affection of the Doctor, and she needed to find out why. And besides that, although it was selfish, she rather fancied the notion of speaking to Rose Tyler alone.

'Drinks?’ She asked, looking around the table. Unanimous assent.

Rienette rose to go call the head servant.

'You do owe me a chicken.’

The Doctor reached into the pockets of his coat, not with the expectation of finding a chicken of course, but he had taken a leaf from the book of Jackie Tyler’s friend Howard. There should be a piece of fruit squirreled away somewhere. He finally located a banana. 

'It’s not a chicken,’ he said, holding it out to Casanova.

Giacomo frowned. 'Some kind of tree pod?’

'It’s fruit. A banana.’

'It’s a bit phallic, isn’t it?’

Rienette and a servant re-entered with a wheeled cart laden laden with various alcoholic liquids. 

'Is there rum?’ the Doctor asked, snatching the banana from Casanova’s hands. He broke the fruit in half. 

Somehow, it the process of the Doctor constructing his Daiquiri a bit of grated fresh ginger found its way into the drink.

Deprived of his prize, Giacomo turned his attention to the king, helping himself to a glass of champagne.

'You know, no painting has ever done you justice, your majesty.’

'You keep saying that.’

'It’s true.’

'That’s very kind of you.’

'Unfortunately, my talents at the moment do not that way tend. My brother, however, is a painter. He’s been fairly good to me in that regard…’

'Monsieur Casanova-’

'I know I’m no beauty, your highness, but it pleases me well to be able to look upon it.’

A pink flush had taken up resistance in the Doctor’s cheeks. 'Did I tell you about Rose Tyler?’ He asked, for not the first time.

'She’s the most wonderful human in the world. It almost scares me how much I-’ he took another gulp of his drink. 'Just really extraordinary. Fantastic.’

Unbeknownst to the party, Clara Oswald had slipped away and passed through the fireplace in an upstairs bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

'So what is it?’ Clara asked, ducking through the fireplace.

'How is he?’

'Inebriated.’

'How long?’

'Couple of hours. He’ll be through soon, though. I’ve fixed the link. But I wanted to ask what it was… That force- that compulsion…’

'Have you ever heard the words “bad wolf”?

'Like the fairytale?’

'Almost. The bad wolf is the harbinger of the end of days. Leaver of omens. Wanderer of worlds. She appears when situations are at their most dire. She controls the power of all of time, of reality itself, of life and death. The power of a vengeful god granted a conscience and a beating heart. Deus ex machina to end deus ex machina. Pure human will give full rein on the powers of the multiverse….’

'And?’

'And she’s me.’

'And who’s that?’

'A girl who worked in a shop. A girl who thought the world was empty and that time would wear on, one second into the next. Unchanging. Rain beating against the pavement. Chips and telly and folded clothes and maybe, just maybe, one day something would happen. I lived in the same flat all my life and I tried, I tried to be happy. I tried to be what I needed to be.’

'I don’t know who I am.’ Clara said, looking at the hem of the skirt she wore as it trailed on the ground. 'I think I might be falling. Something’s calling me and I can’t make out the words. Dust on the wind and death in the air. Falling. Always falling.’

'I think you want to be needed.’

'Want to be needed?’

'You’re a lot like him.’ She nodded towards the fireplace. 'Except I think he has it a bit worse. He needs to be wanted.’

'What about you?’

'Pure human will. Like I said.’

'You know you can’t ever mention me? I’m not sure where that comes from. It’s just a feeling I have. I must be forgotten. Less than a shadow.’ With that, Clara typed a set of coordinates into an oddly familiar vortex manipulator and vanished entirely.

She stole my dress, Rose thought. The Doctor had spent hard-earned stolen cash on that dress. What a waste.


	4. Chapter 4

'Are you going to finish that?’ Casanova asked, indicating the Doctor’s third banana daiquiri.   
'What’s that?’ the Doctor asked blearily, unsteadily making his way upstairs, occasionally atonally humming a few measures of various songs, tie wrapped around his head.   
Casanova took the glass from his unprotesting hand, and sipped it thoughtfully, reflecting on the burn of the alcohol, the sweetness of the rum and fruit and an odd, clean spiciness that caught the back of his tongue.


End file.
